


Waiting for the Coach

by emmykay



Category: Hotblood!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotblood! modern AU: James Rook, Life Coach.  Ficlet. Rated for language and Asa's filthy mouth/mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Coach

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. Inspired by the recent events of the comic, and especially [ this page.](http://hotbloodcomic.com/post/87863414353)

Asa Langley shifted around on the cheap plastic chair, causing it to squeak against the aged linoleum flooring. Even if he didn’t have a flat ass, which he sure as shit did, the chairs in these types of places were always so damn uncomfortable. The address was a good one - 40 years ago, but had since fallen into the hell of small city administrative offices. He lost a lot of his hard-earned money on taxes - a person would think they could afford some nicer chairs. He kicked his heels against the legs.  Squeak. Squeak.

The blonde at the desk stared at him. He gave another defiant squeak and kick as he stared right back. She blew some air out of her nose, rose away from the desk, and turned away from him to dive into one of the line of battered file cabinets, her tail swishing against her pinto hindquarters.

He didn’t choose to be here. He couldn’t smoke in here, for starters. If it wasn’t for the court order, he wouldn’t be within miles of any kind of anger management/life counseling. Fuck that. He knew plenty about how to manage his life and his temper. He was goddamn rich. One time - only one time he showed up with a gun and damn Wakefield had to call the cops. 

Asa knew what he had to do. The judge made sure of it. He just needed a signature on a form that he had shown up, gotten evaluated, discussed his problems for 50 minutes, and then they could do each other a favor and fuck off. And that was what he was definitely going to tell whatever soft-handed bleeding-heart was assigned to his case. After the signature, they could go screw themselves sideways for all he cared. 

"Mr. Langley?" The voice wasn’t very loud, carrying with it a touch of the south in its educated tones. Asa stood up and turned to see a red-haired centaur in a plaid shirt and bolo tie looking over a clipboard. The centaur extended a hand towards him. "Mr. Asa Langley? James Rook. I’ll be your life coach."

Well, now. Asa always did like redheads with hazel eyes. The handshake went a bit long - James Rook’s hand wasn’t that soft, but it was a nice big size. Huh. A smile tilted the corner of Asa’s thin-lipped mouth. He could let things ride a couple of sessions before telling this particular stallion a thing or two about doing each other a fucking favor. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, then Asa goes for a while, which is all full of flirtations when it isn’t full of Asa’s bullshit and the occasional reveal. 
> 
> There has to be a scene where Rook insists Langley ‘uses his words.’
> 
> Rook signs the sheet, which somehow gets Rook into trouble (maybe Asa is in with organized crime?). Then Asa hires him/doesn’t hire him. There is a callback to earlier scene where Langley insists that Rook ‘uses his words.’ Because Langley is an asshole.
> 
> There are ~feelings~ and then they bang, possibly while they’re on the lam, but also afterward. Lots. HEA.


End file.
